Holding On
by frauleina
Summary: Angel gets in touch with just how close he and Angelus really are as he realizes what the consequences are for pushing Cordelia out of his life. Written after he fires the gang to go it alone on his hunt for Darla.


**Summary**: Angel gets in touch with just how close he and Angelus really are as he realizes what the consequences are for pushing Cordelia out of his life.

**Spoilers**: Definitely 'Reunion', and any C/A moments in episodes before that are also fair game.

**Disclaimer**: He and she belong to Fox and Joss and who knows whom else?

**Thank you**: Dana – my beta reader. Thank you again for being willing to do things last minute – as always!

**Dedication**: This is for Prophecy who has been incredibly patient and helpful beyond measure. Took me a while to write this – she was the inspiration – with her Cordelia piece Letting Go. I hope this does hers justice.

**Holding On**

I've done some stupid things in my unnaturally long life. But, I think in hindsight, firing Cordelia, forcing her out of my life, was probably the worst. At the time it seemed like a good idea.

I knew Darla would be coming for me. Once turned, you kill what you loved or what loved you the most in life. At the end, Darla had accepted her humanity, and by dying for her I had showed her just how precious her life really was. She had hated the soul in me before, but not enough to destroy me. Now she loathed everything I stood for, especially the humanity I finally convinced her to recognize and accept. She would try to annihilate me, starting with those nearest and dearest. I knew if there was any hope of saving the three of them I had to get them as far away from me as possible. Darla would start by killing them each horribly, possibly turning one of them, definitely employing torture. She would inevitably leave them in places where I had daily interaction with them, knowing that these discoveries would wear me down mentally and emotionally. I had to do a preemptive strike. I was sure by firing them--removing them from the vicinity--I was protecting them, and assuring myself that their lives would continue.

Little did I know that in saving them, I would destroy her. My Cordy.

I had thrown myself into preparing for the battle ahead. I ignored and avoided every effort they made to reach me, mentally telling myself that they would give up eventually and that it was in their best interests. Cordelia had been insistent to the point where I almost broke; I almost let down my guard.

In my preparations for Darla I had chosen to forego cow and pig's blood. Only human blood would lend me the strength and power I would need to defeat both her and Dru together. Buffy's blood from two years ago had provided me with amazing strength and endurance for an extremely long time. But even a Slayer's blood thins. The small amount of blood I took from Kate had been an amazing rush as my starved body reminded me of the vitality that human blood had and how I thirst for it. Animal blood just did not give me the strength, the healing abilities I would need to win this war. I knew that I would be walking a fine line once I began to drink human blood again, but I thought I could handle it. I thought with them gone they wouldn't be in danger of me.

I was wrong.

Cordy had come to me alone. With tears in her eyes, she argued and fought for me to see reason. When reasoning failed she turned to begging. If someone had told me that Cordelia Chase, the bitch of Sunnydale High, would ever go down on her knees to beg anyone, much less me, for anything – I would have told them they were crazy.

Again, in hindsight I should have known she was capable of that sort of self-sacrifice. Her desperation was heartbreaking and in reaching down to pull her to her feet, no longer able to take her pain and tears, I lost control of the demon within. She had gone into my arms so easily. Wrapping her arms around my neck, molding her body to mine, she wept in relief, believing she had finally gotten through to me. It was the heat of her body, her vulnerability that overwhelmed me. Where once I was strong enough to resist, suddenly my blood lust came to the fore. She had pulled my head down to her shoulder and it was so easy to turn my head, to nuzzle into her neck, to that one incredible sensitive, wonderful location all vampires sought. Before I knew it, I was in full game face, my teeth hovering over that spot.

What stopped me? I honestly don't know.

One second I held her like a lover. The next, I was throwing her across the room in fury and fear. As I fought to push the demon back, to clear my features, I couldn't help but watch as her expressive face processed what she thought was happening.

Confusion, disbelief, anger, hurt, betrayal and then resolve crossed her face rapidly, often returning for a second and third appearance as she looked up at me from the floor. Pushing herself up with her hands, legs splayed before her, hair brushed back from her face she gaped at me in shock. Her eyes narrowed, her lips pursed and she came quickly to her feet. She stalked across the hotel lobby, coming at me with a determined, deadly look in her eyes.

She didn't pull any punches at the end. Standing toe to toe with me, she was inches from my face when she asked me in a deadly tone what I thought Doyle would do with me. With an eyebrow arched, she quietly dared me to reply. Finally, she asked me if I was going to let Doyle's sacrifice go in vain. She pressed her advantage as I remained immobile before her, holding on tightly to my very being as her heartbeat and pulse filled my ears.

As I looked into her angry brown eyes I saw more there than desperation. Hope and love seeped through and I knew they were her driving motivations. I knew I had to finish this soon, now. I was losing the battle with my bloodlust and she was getting to me. I kept hearing Doyle's comment about how Cordelia would be a humanizing influence; my tie to the world and he was right. And that connection was shaking my already tentative hold on the demon within. I didn't have room for second guessing right now, nor did I want her anywhere nearby. With sudden insight that would have made Darla, my teacher of mind games proud, I took a sudden stab in the dark and in the end killed my Cordy.

I gave her my best patented smirk, cocked my head and with a gleeful sneer I said, "Doyle? He was a drunken layabout gambling loser, that wanted to get in your pants."

She gasped in shock at my nasty comment and I twisted the proverbial knife, adding, "You would have let him. . . princess. Eventually."

Tears came to her eyes but she didn't back down from me one inch. I looked at her distress-filled face and smiled as I leaned even closer, and asked her, "How could you possibly think you could reach me? Buffy - a Slayer, almost did. What makes you think you can?

The physical strength Cordelia had been projecting until then deflated at those words. She suddenly seemed smaller, frail even, in just a matter of a few seconds and I knew I had succeeded. Doyle's feelings for her and Buffy's status in my life were like raw nerves waiting to be tormented. She would leave now, finally, and ultimately she would be safe from Darla.

But Cordelia, she's more than she appears, even when you think she is defeated.

I should have known my Cordy.

She took me by complete and utter surprise when she took a very small step back and looked up into my face. With tears rolling down her face, she visibly stood a bit firmer, prouder even, as if she had pulled some last remaining strength from within and in a hushed voice said, "I have to keep trying Angel... I love you..."

She loved me?

In a flash I knew, I understood and I believed. I also knew it had to have taken the last remaining shreds of pride and strength for Cordelia to have said that. I looked at her and I remembered the time I told her how precious she was and I wanted to do it again. While I longed to take her in my arms, and soothe away her hurt and pain, I knew it would be her death. She had reached me.

And then, instinct kicked in. I threw back my head and began to laugh.

I took a step back from her, continuing to laugh and looked down into her stricken, pinched face. She had paled noticeably and was shaking as I took another step back, continuing to laugh, anxious to get away from her. Her warmth, her pulse, her blood were calling to me and I could feel my control slipping as my emotions played havoc with my senses. At the time I focused on what I had to do to get her out of there, what it would take for me to get away from her. I never considered the true ramifications of my actions.

If I had only known then what would happen to Cordelia I would have kept her with me, I wouldn't have let her out of my sight. If I had known, I would have held her forever.

But, I thought she would be ok. I really did. She was Cordelia Chase, one of the strongest women I had ever known. She would be fine, she would move on, and become that big star she so desperately wanted to become when I found her almost two years ago. Maybe I was just telling myself that, making myself believe that so I could get on with the business of taking care of Darla and Dru. But I honestly believed she would be better off without me in her life.

In hindsight maybe I should have known, should have at least guessed what she would do, what she would become.

I remember now how I first found her in Russell Winter's home, prepared to do what she must to succeed, to find that elusive stardom. She had to have known going in that something would be expected of her. She wasn't naïve. She knew any rich man offering her a hand up in her career would have expectations.

So why was I so surprised a week later when I saw her in the company of a much older, very well dressed man who had one hand slipping down low across her hip as he spoke into a cell phone. I was checking out a lead I had on Darla when I came across them waiting for their car to be brought around by a valet. The restaurant was one of the latest hot spots in LA and I had heard Darla had taken to hunting there. I didn't really see Cordelia until I heard her laugh. The laugh sent off an alarm in me somewhere and I turned to see the man holding her cop a feel. To the average observer it looked like Cordelia was probably enjoying herself. But I recognized the tone of voice, the stance of her body. She was nervous and scared, but she was also determined and willing to be right where she was. I watched as she flashed a smile at her date and confidently stepped into the waiting vehicle.

While it was unsettling to see Cordy in such a situation, I trusted her judgment and was confident she could handle herself. This was Queen C. This was the girl who had always left a trail of broken-hearted men in her wake. She, who dated for sport and not leisure. If she was with this guy she had a good reason, though I had to admit the way she was letting him treat her did cause a warning bell in my mind to go off. I had never seen Cordelia allow anyone to manhandle her like that, to disrespect her like that, much less in so public a place. But I let them go without interference and turned back to my hunt for Darla and Dru.

It was a few days later that I really noticed that Cordelia had truly left. I had paid little attention to the hotel but noticed when passing through the office that it was beginning to smell a bit stale. As I surveyed the room, I noted while it still smelled lightly of her perfume, the coffee was molding over in its pot, the plants were wilting and a layer of dust had settled across everything. No one to take care of things, the office had begun to return to the abandoned state I had found it in just a few short months before. I dumped the coffee, washed the pot, watered the plants and wiped off her desk. I guess I thought she would be back when all was said and done, and I didn't want her angry with me for letting things go.

It was a few weeks later that I came across Cordelia again. I had tracked Darla to one of the trendiest nightclubs in town and while the bass drove a hard steady beat, bodies pounded the dance floor completely unaware of the dangers surrounding them. As always Darla chose to hunt among the rich and beautiful and in L.A. that meant she stalked the hottest late night gathering holes. I had seen her come in but now as I surveyed the mass of withering bodies I couldn't place her. I almost missed Cordelia as well.

She was at the end of the bar drinking. It was the flip of her hair as she turned to observe the dance floor that caught my eye. She was wearing a tight, black, plunging neckline of a dress, which left nothing to the imagination. She sipped delicately from a martini glass and surveyed the crowd before her with a wary, calculating expression. There were a number of men hovering about, each vying for her attention. She didn't appear to be favoring any one of them, nor did she seem to be seriously encouraging them either. Though she smiled, she looked bored more then anything and maybe a bit uncomfortable. I was captivated by the subtle changes I saw in her and wondered how she really was doing. I had simply assumed that since I hadn't heard anything that she was fine. Watching her, I had to wonder if my assumptions were correct. Something about her stance, her appearance, got under my skin. Cordy had never looked that hard. I was just considering approaching her when a giggle and flash of blond caught my eye. I turned to find Darla standing there with a mischievous smile and Cordelia was forgotten as I watched my nemesis plunge into the crowds.

That morning as the sun rose I was trying to wrap my own newly cracked ribs. I had fought Darla and Dru in the back of the club and then later we had had a rousing game of hide-and-seek in the alleys. While I had gotten in a few good hits, I hadn't been able to finish the job. As I grunted in pain while trying to get the bandage around my back, I had a momentary flash of Cordelia. Rib wrapping really was her specialty. I remembered the cool efficiency she used to clean and bandage me, even teasingly telling me to not move my "man boobs" so she could get her bandages to stick. She had come a long way from that first time she helped Doyle remove a couple of bullets from my chest all the while complaining about how gross and disgusting it was.

Finishing the job finally, I slowly laid down thinking about Cordelia. Something about seeing her tonight bothered me. I didn't like how she looked. My Cordy had always had a classy, sweetness about her, with just some of the steel within peeking through to the surface. Tonight she looked...well she looked like the modern day version of the whores I might have visited in my youth. Her calculating expression, and vacant eyes, all the while smiling, wearing an extremely trashy, unCordelia-like dress, all screamed lose woman, hunting for a man. I didn't like it. Cordelia was above that. I really believed she could never, would never prostitute herself in any manner, and so I decided that I hadn't see what I thought I had. Struggling to find peace enough to sleep, I concluded that I had been too far away, and really hadn't gotten a long enough look to really gauge what was going on. The dress could easily be explained as the latest fashion trend and Cordelia was nothing if not on top of the most current looks. I was just still stuck in the 18th century when it came to how I viewed women, I resolved as I drifted off to sleep.

I met Gunn's booming announcement of "Knock, knock" and his kicking in my bedroom door in full game face with my hands six inches from his throat. I think he learned his lesson, never wake a sleeping vampire – at least not so abruptly. We didn't start on out our conversation on the best of terms, each almost ready to kill the other, so it took a minute or two for us to get to the point. Gunn had come by to show me just what Cordelia had been up to these past weeks. Angry, he insisted that I get of my high horse and start saving people who needed saving, starting with Cordelia. It took a minute for my sleep-fogged mind to clear and to process that he was thrusting a magazine in my face. I remember being confused and not quite following where he was going with his tirade at first. Finally he opened it and thrust a photo spread at me.

Cordelia stared back at me.

A semi-naked, looked like a cheap strumpet – Cordelia, that is.

Stunned, shocked, appalled, and sickened didn't begin to cover how I felt when my mind finally registered what I was seeing. Gunn had kept on talking and pacing as he very pointedly accused me of driving her to this. He had decided I was a bastard and an idiot if I didn't realize that by firing her she would have little else to fall back on. She had to eat, and bills to pay and with few skills I should have known this is where she would end up. I agreed with him silently as he continued to berate me for my idiocy. I was looking at my Cordy. My downfallen princess.

I finally sat down on the side of the bed still to stunned to respond as I looked into the sad dark eyes of my former seer. The light normally in them was gone. She looked like a shell of herself. Somewhere I realized Gunn had brought me a men's magazine, one that I actually recognized, so I knew this photo spread had to have been justified as good for her career, to get her noticed. Turning the page I came across a picture of her smiling. Clad only in red lacy bikini panties, she looked over her shoulder at the camera holding her breasts while her back, ass and legs were displayed for the world to see. This picture contrasted sharply with the others and made me see red. There in the picture was Cordelia, MY Cordy with that glimmer in her eye and that sweet smile; she was flashing that precious, irreplaceable part of her to the world and in such a cheap fashion. I wanted to cry, to scream, to kill something.

I looked up at Gunn finally as I realized he had quit yelling at me and was simply standing there glowering, arms crossed, pissed as hell, looking at me with accusing eyes. I didn't blame him a bit.

Shortly after Gunn left I made my first of many calls to Cordelia. She didn't answer. I didn't leave a message. I didn't know what to say. I hate machines anyway. Eventually, somewhere around the tenth call that same day, I did leave a message. While I watched the clock and had the phone company check her lines, I thought about Cordelia and what had happened to my sweet, beautiful girl. I was responsible I knew that. I might as well have stripped her of her clothes and taken the pictures myself.

Sitting in the office, surrounded by the fading scent of her perfume, I remembered every detail of the last time I spoke to Cordelia. I had been a complete and total bastard. I had done Darla proud. I had killed my girl without shedding a drop of blood. People thought Angelus was the bastard but I knew the truth. I might have lost my soul when I became the Scourge of Europe all those years ago, but a basic part of me was still intact that entire time. Darla was right. The darkness I carried was part of me, it was already there before she turned me - she just let it out. After a couple centuries of fine-tuning my manipulation skills, I knew how to kill a soul with a few well-chosen words, wielding them with the fine precision of a surgical instrument.

I couldn't help but compare what I had done to what had happened a few short years ago back in Sunnydale. You would have thought I would have learned something from that experience. I had been a bastard then too, but the circumstances were much different. This time I was solely responsible for the damage I so callously caused. The fact that Buffy had survived Angelus was due mainly to the constant support and interference she had had from her Watcher and the Scoobies. I was never more grateful when I returned from Hell and found I hadn't been able to completely destroy her in the end. But Cordelia - she had faced me on her own, with no backup to speak of. She also hadn't had the comfort of believing that she was dealing with someone or something else, like Buffy had. Cordelia dealt with me on her own terms, completely, honestly, no weapon on hand to defend herself. I had taken her trust, her friendship, her constant acceptance and belief that I was worthy of her love and I destroyed it. I hadn't needed Angelus to kill my Cordy. I alone had welded that weapon and twisted it until it was unrecognizable. Love.

Damn.

It was killing me to think what I had done to her. What had it done to her?

As the next few days passed and I left message after message between my ongoing hunt for Darla, I got the message myself. Cordelia didn't want to talk to me. She didn't want to see me. She had cut me out of her life.

Finally, as I paced through the office glaring at the phone, willing it to ring I made a decision. I had to talk to her. I had to see her. Picking up the phone after days of messages I left one last one. "Cordy, it's me, Angel....Look..I-I...We need to talk... I'm coming over."


End file.
